


phantom of incapacity

by silentsaebyeok



Series: Cobra Kai Season 3 Missing Moments [2]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Just sayin', Mental Health Issues, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unresolved Trauma, Whump, do not copy to another site, everybody in this show needs to go to therapy, no more karate—only therapy, panic attack time isn't romance time, there's only romance if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsaebyeok/pseuds/silentsaebyeok
Summary: But then Miguel suddenly stopped talking. The words halting just as quickly as they came out of his mouth. And from the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze, from the way his eyebrows were pinched together and his shoulders hunched, Sam could tell he felt ashamed and embarrassed.And she understood that completely. Because that was how she felt after the disastrous fight at the arcade. After Demetri got his arm broken. And for weeks after, she had a hard time looking at him without being filled with shame and regret. Because she felt broken. Because she felt like her brokenness caused him to become broken.Or, Sam and Miguel bond over shared trauma.Set directly after their confrontation with Robby in 3x8. Canon compliant.
Relationships: Miguel Diaz/Samantha LaRusso
Series: Cobra Kai Season 3 Missing Moments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186826
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	phantom of incapacity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of my Cobra Kai Season 3 Missing Moments series, but each work in this series stands on its own, and none of the works in this series need to be read in any specific order. As long as you’ve watched season 3, you’ll be just fine jumping in with this fic.   
> \--  
> Listen, Fam. I love this confrontation scene between Robby, Sam and Miguel. I really do. But from the moment I watched it for the first time, I felt like there was something missing. At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but after careful thought, I realized what the problem was: **Miguel has little-to-no reaction to Robby trying to strike him.** Besides a few facial expressions, there’s not much there. 
> 
> And this really bothers me. Because let’s be real, this is the first time Miguel sees Robby since the guy kicked him over a balcony and caused him to lose months of his life to a severe injury. It makes absolutely no sense that Miguel wouldn’t be freaked out by Robby’s actions here. None. So, I wrote this fic to change that. Miguel’s mental state was severely neglected in season three, and my stubborn ass refuses to let it stay that way. 
> 
> So, without further ado, let’s get into it!

“Should’ve known.”

Startled, Miguel let go of Sam and spun around to find the source of the voice that interrupted their intimate moment.

Robby. It was Robby Keene.

Just seeing the guy standing there, a few feet away from him sent a sudden and unsolicited chill down his spine. Causing the world to close in on him. Causing the blood to rush to his head. Causing his ears to fill with white noise.

What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly feeling like he was going to pass out? Why was it suddenly hard to breathe? 

_Get it together, Miguel,_ he told himself.

And after a few seconds of standing there, taking deep breaths and staring at Robby’s face, the sound came back to his ears.

“—know why you stopped writing,” Robby was saying, voice full of disappointment.

“I stopped writing because you never answered!” Sam countered.

Miguel looked over at her then, seeing the lines of stress on her face. The way this sudden encounter was affecting her too. 

“Yeah? Well, it’s kinda hard to write back in between getting my face busted in!”

“I didn’t know,” Sam said weakly. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t have cared even if you did know,” Robby replied, rolling his eyes.

And then Miguel found himself speaking, the words flying out of his mouth before he even had a moment to think about them. “It’s not her fault.”

“Stay out of this!” Robby said harshly, stepping closer and pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Miguel jutted his chin out and moved toward Robby. Close enough to get right in his face. “I don’t think I will.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Robby derided.

And then there was a moment of tension and anticipation. One that Miguel could tell Sam felt too. A moment where he felt like the friction between them would explode. Spill over into the world around them. 

But whatever he was momentarily preparing himself for, it wasn’t what happened next. Because one second they were standing there, looking at each other warily, and the next Robby tried to hit him, swinging his fists violently in his direction.

Miguel was only vaguely aware of stumbling backwards to avoid being struck. He was only vaguely aware of Sam stepping in front of him and blocking Robby’s punch. He was only vaguely aware of Sam saying something, but he couldn’t register what it was. He couldn’t get his brain to work.

Because Robby wanted to hurt him again. He was trying to hurt him like before. Just like before. Before when he almost died because of him. Before when he spent months thinking he was going to be paralyzed for the rest of his life. Before when he couldn’t put on his clothes or get things out of reach or do practically _anything_ without help.

His chest was constricting painfully, and he couldn’t get his breaths out.

_I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. He’s trying to kill me again. I can’t breathe._

He felt his mind float away, he felt it disappear into himself. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere he couldn’t find it. Because he was staring at the spot where Robby was standing, not even comprehending that he wasn’t there anymore. Not understanding that he left. That he was gone.

Because the guy was still in his head. Still stuck there on a loop trying to strike him over and over and over again.

And Miguel couldn’t think straight. He didn’t even know what thinking was anymore. Not when the fear had him in a vice-like grip. Not when he was stuck in some spiraling feedback loop where the terrifying feeling of plunging to his death had taken over. Not when he couldn’t get ahold of himself.

_Robby’s trying to kill me again._

_He wants me dead._

_I’m gonna die._

_He wants me dead._

\--

The yard was still. Tense and quiet. And it stayed that way for what felt like an eternity after Sam watched Robby walk away. After she let him leave. Willingly. Because she knew this was the end. And she’d known it before, but now she was positive. Completely so.

Because her relationship with Robby ended the moment he kicked Miguel over the balcony, but she had hoped they could continue to be friends. She hoped she could be there for him. Help him. But now she knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. She knew even the prospect of friendship had turned to dust. Disintegrated into oblivion. 

Letting out a deep breath and running a hand through her hair, Sam glanced over at Miguel. And immediately, the panic she felt when Robby tried to strike him returned. Because something was wrong. Because Miguel was frozen, staring straight ahead at the light coming from the open dojo door, staring but not seeing. Not really.

He was trembling.

And suddenly, Sam knew exactly what this was. She knew because she’d been dealing with it herself over the past few months. She knew because it was weighing her down every day, suffocating her slowly. Methodically. Painfully.

“Miguel?” She finally asked. “You okay?”

He turned his head sharply and swiftly, clearly startled. He was blinking rapidly, and there was a weird emotion on his face. One that she didn’t want to admit she completely understood.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m—” Miguel stuttered. “Just—just give me a minute.”

Sam noticed his fists clenching and unclenching then. His hands were shaking intensely, and he began to stumble backwards, legs suddenly giving out from underneath him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam said, catching him just before he fell to the ground. “Here, lets sit down, okay?”

Miguel complied willingly as she guided him toward the small porch in front of the door. He seemed numb. Lost. Like he was in another world.

“It’s okay,” she said, rubbing his arm slowly. “I’m right here. Robby’s gone.”

“I—I can’t—I can’t breathe,” Miguel sputtered out, gripping his chest. “I think I—I think I need my inhaler.”

Sam sighed, moving her hand to rub across his back. Trying to ground him, trying to pull him back to reality. “I don’t think this is asthma, Miguel.”

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because a look of total anxiety and fear came over him at her words. It was a look of knowing. Of knowing but being in denial at the same time.

“I—I—” Miguel stuttered, unable to get whatever he wanted to say out.

He was shaking almost violently, shoulders hunched and breaths coming out in short, quick gasps.

Hyperventilating. That was the word. That’s what it was.

Sam continued rubbing circular motions on his back as she watched him struggle in a way that was all too familiar to her. In a way that hit far too close to home.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re having a panic attack.”

He looked at her then, eyes wide and afraid. Frightened. Because he wasn’t in control of himself and he knew it. And Sam wouldn’t pretend the look on his face didn’t unsettle her. Because she’d never seen him like this before. So vulnerable and so scared.

“Just try to breathe. Deep breaths. In and out,” she said soothingly.

“I—I can’t,” Miguel forced out, choking on his words.

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” Sam said, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Feel that? Let it ground you. I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen. It’s gonna be okay.”

Miguel didn’t respond as she spoke. He didn’t acknowledge her as his body continued to tremble and shake. 

So Sam did the only thing she figured she could do. Be there for him. Talk. Repeat those empty platitudes and hollow comforts over and over. And she didn’t know how long the two of them sat there like that. She didn’t count the number of times she repeated her mantra as the fear washed over him and took him on a ride he clearly didn’t want to go on.

But eventually his breathing evened out. Eventually he slumped in on himself, curling up and putting his face in his hands.

“You okay?” Sam asked, immediately kicking herself for saying that.

Because of course he wasn’t okay. He just had a panic attack, and maybe a flashback or something else she knew looked the same from the outside.

“Not really,” Miguel answered truthfully. “That was—I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.”

“You’ve never had a panic attack?” Sam asked, biting her tongue at the stupidity of her question. Because there were tons of people who never had panic attacks. Millions. Maybe even billions.

She just thought with everything he’d been through over the past few months, that maybe he would have had a similar experience to her. That maybe they would be able to relate to each other.

“Not like that,” Miguel said after a moment. “Not where I felt like everything was—”

But then he suddenly stopped talking. The words halting just as quickly as they came out of his mouth. And from the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze, from the way his eyebrows were pinched together and his shoulders hunched, Sam could tell he felt ashamed and embarrassed.

And she understood that completely. Because that was how she felt after the disastrous fight at the arcade. After Demetri got his arm broken. And for weeks after, she had a hard time looking at him without being filled with shame and regret. Because she felt broken. Because she felt like her brokenness caused him to become broken.

So she understood how embarrassed Miguel had to be feeling. Because panic attacks were an uncontrollable variable that always seemed to come out of nowhere at the worst moments. Because it was mortifying to fall apart like that in front of other people.

“You can talk to me about it if you want. I won’t judge,” Sam said softly. “I mean, I know what it feels like to freak out like that. It isn’t fun.”

“Yeah,” Miguel said simply, wringing his hands together, clearly lost in thought.

And Sam was quiet for a moment, wanting to give him space to work out what he was on the verge of saying. Because she understood how hard it was to talk about these things. She understood how easy it was to deflect and pretend she didn’t need help. She understood how much admitting something was wrong took a hit at a person’s pride.

“I just…I didn’t think seeing Robby again would do that to me,” Miguel whispered, staring at his lap. “It was the first time, you know? The first time seeing him since…everything.”

Miguel was picking at his shoelace as he spoke. And she knew he was trying his best to avoid her gaze. It was painfully obvious.

But it was also painfully obvious that Miguel would freak out after Robby tried to swing at him like that. Because if it had been Tory standing there, she would have been in the same anxiety and trauma-filled boat.

And while Robby’s actions back in August were _clearly_ an accident—unlike what Tory had planned for her, she knew the human brain didn’t always react logically to things. She knew even the smallest reminders of trauma could send someone back to the worst moments in life.

She knew because when Tory showed up at the arcade, the same thing happened. She just stopped. Everything froze as her head played out the things she had been desperately trying to bury, to tuck away and to gather dust.

“You know, I had the same reaction the first time I saw Tory. After the fight. I couldn’t breathe. I was frozen. I was…really, really scared,” Sam admitted, forcing herself to look in Miguel’s eyes despite how difficult it was. “And—and I talked to my dad about it, and he said it was normal to be scared after something like that.”

Exhaling deeply, she continued. “And I know that doesn’t make it any better, but—but just know you aren’t alone.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Miguel said after a beat of silence.

And as she watched him plaster on a fake smile, one she could tell he didn’t feel, she noticed how tired he looked. Exhausted. Completely drained in that all too familiar post-panic attack way.

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get a drink. There’s lemonade in the kitchen.”

Miguel looked confused at her statement. “Your guys’ dojo has a kitchen?”

“This dojo used to be a house, if you didn’t notice,” Sam said playfully, smiling and gesturing to the building as she got to her feet. “C’mon it’s getting kinda chilly out here.”

\--

“And I thought the yard was cool!” Miguel exclaimed as Sam grabbed a couple of glasses from the cabinets.

She grinned at his enthusiasm. It was absolutely endearing. “It looks even cooler when it’s light out. The sun shines beautifully through the shoji paper.”

Miguel hummed in acknowledgement at her statement, gratefully taking the glass of lemonade she handed him.

“We can sit over here,” she said, leading him to sit on the zabuton cushions in front of the floor table.

Once, they got settled, neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Both lost in thought. Both lost in memories. And Sam thought back to the committee meeting earlier in the day. She thought about Miguel’s words. His speech. Because while she agreed the tournament was an important part of ending this whole mess, she couldn’t wrap her head around Miguel’s constant defense of Mr. Lawrence, especially because him bringing back Cobra Kai and Kreese was what caused all this to begin with.

_“Look, I don’t know where I would be today, or who I would be today, if it wasn’t for my sensei.”_

Why did Miguel think Mr. Lawrence was so great? She couldn’t make sense of it. According to her dad, he was a loser. And during the short time Robby lived with them, he seemed to agree.

But it wasn’t like she could take Robby’s word for anything anymore, could she? Not after the way he acted tonight. Not after he was so angry at her for nothing. Not after he tried to hit Miguel when he knew Miguel wouldn’t be able to fight back.

Either she would just have to take Miguel’s word for it or get to know Mr. Lawrence and formulate her own opinion about the guy. Which, all things considered probably wouldn’t be happening any time soon considering how much her dad seemed to hate his guts.

But she couldn’t deny that Miguel thought highly of him. Especially not after today. Not after he said those things and Mr. Lawrence gave him a hug when the meeting adjourned.

The same kind of hug her dad gave her.

Maybe she should just ask him. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

“So…” Sam began hesitantly. “What is it about Mr. Lawrence?”

Miguel crinkled his eyebrows together, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

What _did_ she mean? And how could she explain what she was thinking without hurting Miguel’s feelings? How could she tell him she didn’t understand what he saw in the guy?

“It’s just…he’s a little rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

Miguel inhaled sharply. “Look Sam, I know you and your dad aren’t too fond of Sensei Lawrence, but you gotta get to know him before you judge. He can come across as a little…intense, I get that. But he’s a good person. He has a good heart.”

A retort was flying out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. “But my dad—”

“—Whatever he did to your dad in high school or wherever this stupid rivalry came from doesn’t matter anymore, okay?” Miguel interrupted, suddenly sounding annoyed.

It was then that Sam knew she needed to pump the breaks. She didn’t want the issues between her dad and Mr. Lawrence to get in the way of their relationship again, not after everything. So if she had to hold back on how she truly felt about Mr. Lawrence to appease Miguel, she would do it.

“I’m just—I’m trying to figure out why you care about him so much,” Sam said, trying to explain herself. “I mean, he’s just your karate sensei.”

Miguel was staring at her intently. Studying her face and trying to figure her out. And maybe she said the wrong thing again because the silence that rested between them felt a little too thick. A little too tense. And it lasted a little too long.

“He’s not _just_ my karate sensei,” Miguel finally said, staring down at his lemonade. “He—he helps me with life, you know?”

She must have looked confused because after a beat of silence, Miguel was suddenly elaborating. Trying his very best to put his feelings into words.

“Okay…well, think about it this way,” he began, drumming his fingers on the tabletop nervously. “Remember when I asked you out? And we went to Golf N’ Stuff? That was Sensei’s idea.”

“Really?” 

“Uh-huh. Look, I’d never asked anyone out before and I didn’t know how to plan a date or anything like that. But my mom and my _yaya_ wouldn’t be able to help because they grew up in Ecuador. Teenage dating isn’t really a thing there. Plus, guys don’t really ask their moms for dating advice, that would be… _weird_. Instead, they ask their dads.”

Miguel paused for a moment after that, taking a big gulp of lemonade and looking down at his lap. “And because my dad isn’t…well…Sensei Lawrence is the next best thing.”

And as Miguel trailed off and the room became quiet once again, Sam began to think. Because while she and Miguel had dated before, they’d never had a conversation like this. They never talked about anything personal or heavy.

Not until today. Not until all their walls had been broken down by panic attacks and confessions of panic attacks.

It made her realize there was still so much about Miguel she didn’t know. It made her realize there were a lot of things about his life she couldn’t relate to. Because while she knew he didn’t have a dad, she hadn’t ever thought about what that meant. She never stopped to think about what that would be like. She never wondered if it was hard or difficult or lonely.

Even when Robby lived with them, she didn’t think about it much. The ramifications of growing up without both parents never really crossed her mind.

And maybe it was an indication that she was some selfish, shallow asshole, but she didn’t mean it in that way. She just didn’t think. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how lucky she was. Not until this very moment.

Because she couldn’t imagine living without either of her parents. She couldn’t imagine life without her mom there to teach her about her body changing, about being a woman. She couldn’t imagine a world without her dad, one where she had to navigate the difficult things about the past few months all alone.

And if Mr. Lawrence was the person Miguel found to fill that empty space in his life, she couldn’t really judge him for it, could she? Not when she didn’t understand what it was like. Not when she couldn’t understand no matter how hard she tried.

But still…Mr. Lawrence was pretty out of touch. Especially since he thought Golf N’ Stuff was a great place to go on a date. That was just laughable. 

“Well, I guess it all makes sense now,” Sam said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Miguel asked, knitting his eyebrows together. “What makes sense?”

“Why you took me to Golf N’ Stuff! That place is ancient!” Sam said, unable to hold her giggle inside. “Apparently, my dad hung out there all the time as a teenager. And then he took me and Anthony a few times in elementary school, but we thought it was pretty lame.”

Miguel bristled momentarily. “Hey! I remember you saying you loved that place!”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Sam replied, immediately cringing at her seemingly uncontrollable, stark honesty. “But…while I may have not liked going with my dad and Anthony as a kid, I had a blast with you.”

“Really?” Miguel asked, voice rising a little too high, making him sound slightly insecure.

Sam smiled softly. “Of course, Miguel. It’s still the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, technically it was—”

“—not a date,” Sam cut in. “I know.”

A pause came over the room after that, both of them sipping at their lemonade as they listened to the sound of nighttime crickets.

“I guess I can agree that Golf N’ Stuff is pretty lame,” Miguel said after a moment. “But Sam? The point I’m trying to make is that Sensei Lawrence has always been there for me. Ever since I moved here. I meant what I said at the meeting. That without him, I don’t know who or where I would be. And—And at the bare minimum, I know I would still be stuck in that stupid-ass wheelchair. Feeling sorry for myself. He’s just…sometimes I feel like he’s just as much a part of my family as my mom and _yaya_ are.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know how to respond in a respectful and understanding way. Because she didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Because her dad had always been right there next to her from the moment she took her first breath. Because she couldn’t fathom a world where he wasn’t there for her.

Plus, it wasn’t like she could ask Miguel why he didn’t have a dad. At least, she _felt_ like she couldn’t ask him. Not right now. It would feel like an invasion of privacy that she hadn’t earned the ability to breach yet.

Looking up from her drink and back at Miguel, he didn’t seem to realize she had been momentarily lost in thought. His eyes were heavy-laden, and his shoulders were slumped as he stared down at the melting ice in his glass. And sure, it was only around ten at night, but he looked totally and completely wiped out.

Both physically and mentally.

It made her wonder how far along he actually was in his recovery. And science wasn’t her best subject, but she knew spinal cord injuries were complex. She knew they had a whole bunch of complications and side effects and issues that piled up on top of each other. She knew because she spent hours reading webpages full of medical jargon during her suspension from school. During the two weeks Miguel was in a coma. During the two weeks she’d been absolutely terrified her actions would cost him his life.

But above all, she knew that physical and mental hurt often went together. Like bread and butter.

Setting her glass on the table with a thunk, Sam stood from the floor and stretched. “You look absolutely exhausted, Miguel,” she said once he locked eyes with hers, clearly wondering what she was up to. “C’mon, I’ll take you home and you can get some sleep.” 

Miguel simply nodded and followed her out the door as she led him to her car.

\--

He was staring out the window of Sam’s car. Staring but not really seeing, the feeling of a vehicle in motion lulling him into a numbing state. A state he wasn’t sure he’d truly ever recovered from after seeing Robby earlier. So suddenly and unexpectedly.

He’d been trying not to think about Robby for months now. Only confronting his thoughts and feelings when it became too much. When he couldn’t handle it anymore. But for the most part, he was content to bury the hurt and the pain. He was content to pretend like it wasn’t something he needed to deal with.

But now that Robby had been released from juvie—something _absolutely nobody_ had thought to tell him about—it seemed as if he was going to have to confront his issues.

Because Robby was free. He was out in the community.

And Miguel really didn’t want to think about what that would mean for him going forward. Because he was scared to confront what Robby being free really meant. What it meant for his sanity.

Was what he went through not enough? Not enough to keep him behind bars for longer? Did his struggles and his despair not count for enough to give him more than four measly months?

Letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair, Miguel realized there was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. Not after that crazy freak out he had. Not when his thoughts were swirling at ten million miles an hour despite how exhausted and drained he was.

And a part of him was absolutely mortified that this happened in front of Sam. In front of the girl of his dreams. The girl he just managed to get back.

She probably thought he was crazy. And nobody wanted to date a crazy guy.

But then again, hadn’t she just admitted a little while ago that she had panic attacks too? Hadn’t she fessed up to Tory causing her to have a similar reaction?

Ugh. Tory. He didn’t even want to touch that mess with a ten-foot pole. Miguel couldn’t deny that he still cared about her, but she didn’t even visit him once while he was recovering. And that stung. It hurt. And it hurt that she hurt Sam the way Robby hurt him.

Because he never intended for any of this to turn out the way it did. He never wanted to hurt anyone. But he made a major mistake, and now he had to live with the consequences. Consequences he’d been dealing with twenty-four-seven for the past four months.

He must have made some sort of indication of his stress, because the next thing he knew, Sam was pulling him out of his thoughts.

“You know, I thought it was really brave of you to say all those personal things at the meeting today. About being paralyzed and stuff. Especially in front of all those strangers.”

Was it brave? Was it really? He didn’t know what to think about that statement. Because, yeah, it wasn’t exactly fun to talk about something that made pity instantly appear on people’s faces, but it was leaps and bounds better than living it. He would take talking about the most hellish moments of his life over being stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of eternity any day.

Plus, being paralyzed was one thing, but telling a crowd full of strangers about your mental health struggles? That was something else entirely. It was on a whole different level.

“Thanks, Sam. You were brave too,” Miguel finally said, deciding to voice his thoughts. “And without you coming to my rescue, I don’t think the tournament could have been saved.”

“Oh, whatever,” Sam replied, rolling her eyes. “You did most of the talking.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the words I said were helpful to the cause. They were gonna shut me down until you intervened.”

“What can I say?” Sam shrugged and smiled playfully. “I was on the debate team freshman year before Yasmine convinced me it was for nerds.”

Miguel sat up straighter in his seat, an unconscious smile spreading over his face. “But Sam, you are a nerd! And don’t deny it!”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, but there was a time when I was trying not to be. When I was trying so hard to fit in.”

Miguel hummed, recalling that time. The time when he’d just moved to Reseda and didn’t understand West Valley’s social pecking order. The time that Sam was going out with Kyler. The time when everything was so simple. When Kreese wasn’t around, and Cobra Kai belonged to Sensei. When he didn’t have to worry about Robby Keene and constant fatigue and pain.

“So…are you going to compete with Eagle Fang at the All Valley?” Sam asked.

Miguel let out a frustrated groan and dramatically slumped in his seat. “I don’t know.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Don’t you want to defend your title?”

“Of course I do!” Miguel said, realizing he must have been coming across as abrasive and upset. “It’s just—Sensei and my mom don’t want me to. They act like I’m made of glass. They act like I’m gonna—I just—I’m pretty sure they don’t think I’m capable of it.”

And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t be ready by May. But he couldn’t let himself think that way. He couldn’t let himself believe that, because if he did, it would mean he was giving up. And giving up was something he absolutely never did. Never.

He had to prove himself. He had to prove that he wasn’t broken anymore. That he wasn’t the disabled kid that everyone was supposed to pity and feel sorry for all the time. And if that meant sucking it up, if that meant pushing himself through constant pain and fatigue, then he would do it. Because he was so sick of the pity and worry and babying that seemed to surround him all the time.

And if his back hurt all the time, even after the most basic activity like walking up a flight of stairs or down a hill, nobody needed to know. Nobody needed to know that he had constant nerve pain in his legs. Nobody needed to know that he bought a huge bottle of Bengay and almost used half of it already.

Miguel let out a deep sigh and continued. “Even at practice Sensei Lawrence has been acting weird. Before everything, he was always so tough on me. And I liked it that way. But now…now he worries all the time it just makes me feel…”

Miguel trailed off. He hadn’t really let himself think about how it made him feel. Was it inferior? Embarrassed? Annoyed? He didn’t really know. All he knew was that he wanted it to stop.

He just wanted things to go back to normal. 

“Well, you are welcome to come train with me at Miyagi-Do anytime,” Sam said. “I won’t go easy on you.”

Miguel raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Sam echoed. “In fact, why don’t you come back over tomorrow morning? Miyagi-Do doesn’t practice on Saturdays, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Miguel smiled, speaking softly. “I would love that, Sam.”

“Great! It’s a plan.”

And as they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Miguel thought that things might just work out. That maybe there was someone who would act like things could go back to normal. Someone who was willing to overlook his limitations and treat him like a normal person.

“See you tomorrow, then? Do you need me to pick you up?” Sam asked as he got out of the car.

“Oh. Um. Yeah, that would be great,” Miguel replied, stumbling awkwardly over his words.

“Sounds good.” Sam smiled. “Have a good night, Miguel.”

“Thanks, Sam. You too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a huge thank you to my lovely friend [saltsanford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford) for beta reading this fic and reassuring me that I wrote Sam in character. She was tough for me to nail down, I won’t lie. Thank you so much for the help, girlie! <3 <3 <3   
> \--  
> I know the main room of Mr. Miyagi’s house became a dojo, but we never see any of the other rooms in the show, so I imagine the kitchen is still a kitchen. And if it’s not, well, just suspend your disbelief.   
> \--  
> The title of this fic comes from the poem “Bridge” by Karen Volkman. I think the words “phantom of incapacity” so accurately, beautifully and succinctly describe both Miguel and Sam’s situations in season 3. I will leave who (or what) the “phantom” is up to your interpretation.


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